Every year around this time, Lego unveils the latest expansion to its ever-growing 'Winter Village' line of sets and I bemoan not having a massive basement to deck out in blocky holiday cheer. This year’s addition, the $160 Gingerbread House, looks like the perfect standalone piece for brick fans with limited room.
Whereas sets like 2017’s awesome Winter Village train station work best as part of a larger build, I see the new Gingerbread House as a lovely solo decoration for a fireplace mantle or dining room table centrepiece. It’s 1,477 pieces of self-contained holiday cheer, hitting store shelves on October 1, and it’s only making me mildly hungry.
I love building houses out of gingerbread. Piping frosting, dotting the roof with gumdrops, making signposts and lighting fixtures out of candy canes. The problem is I also love eating gingerbread. When I finish building a real gingerbread house, demolition begins almost immediately. I can see myself resisting eating the Lego Gingerbread House for at least a week. Maybe a week and a half.
Look at the little people. Couldn’t you just eat them up? If not, imagine these magical baked creatures somehow managed to afford a lavish household in this economy. Just look at the interior. It’s so lavish.
It’s got a lovely chair, a kitchenette. I’d prefer a full kitchen, but when you are food maybe food isn’t as important. And look upstairs. They’ve got a large bed they obviously share. There’s a bathtub—and a toilet, which raises questions I’d rather not answer. And is that a bassinet? Wait a minute here. Computer, zoom in on Mrs. Gingerbread.
Oh my god, her head is strawberry-filled. Also, it looks like she has given birth to a piece of flatbread. Gingerbread sex confirmed. Now I definitely want to eat them.
Fortunately for everyone, young children probably won’t notice the wealth of disturbing biological evidence scattered about the Lego Gingerbread House set. They’ll just gather around, all rosy-cheeked and enchanted, while the adults make humping motions to each other behind their backs.
Happy holidays, eventually.